


I actually am as good as everyone else pretends to be

by SimplyLucia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Future Fic, Gift Fic, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Post-Vale, Romance, Sansa's POV, camp fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyLucia/pseuds/SimplyLucia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sandor Clegane rescued Sansa Stark in the Vale, she takes the opportunity of a quiet night in the woods to thank him and to open her heart... Things don't go as she planned. Or do they? One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I actually am as good as everyone else pretends to be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyTP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTP/gifts).



> Everything belongs to GRRM. Not beta-read.  
> Originally posted on tumblr, this fic is a gift for LadyTP who submitted this quote: "I actually am as good as everyone else pretends to be". Believe it or not, that's what Dean Ambrose said during an interview... and it perfectly fits Sandor.

The fire smelled of wet kindling yet it warmed her hands and kept the darkness away; it cast light and shadows about them and although her sullen companion was sitting a bit farther from the flames, Sansa knew his eyes were fixed on them, just like hers. It was the second night after he had stolen her from her husband in the Vale. She’d never forget how Harry had looked helpless when he had realized he had no chance against the Hound. Not that she regretted Harry; she didn’t love him and there was Petyr… Petyr who wanted what her name represented but who also wanted her. Harry would have let Petyr have his lady wife. _It was only a matter of time._

Sansa closed her eyes, the flames still dancing behind her eyelids, then she looked at Sandor. There was this limp of course, when he walked, perhaps some gray hair on his temples and something she couldn’t quite place in the way he looked at her, but otherwise he was the man she remembered. _Broad-shouldered and broody. With rough hands and rude comments on everyone who isn’t his beloved horse...Or me._ If her inability to survive in these snowy woods made him angry, he never voiced his irritation.

“I thank you,” she said, shifting on the log where she was sitting.

The crackling sounds coming from the fire were the first answer she got, until he cleared his throat. His voice was croaky. “For what, girl?” Even married and bedded, she was still a girl for him. Mayhap he would always see her as some little girl, even when she’d have crow’s feet. Sansa wondered if he’d still be around when she’d have crow’s feet.

“For saving me. For taking all these risks.” A lump in her throat, because she now recalled how a girl named Alayne Stone had missed him during her stay at the Eyrie, she added quickly, before her voice faltered: “For taking care of me. It proves how good you are.”

He sniggered at that. “I actually am as good as everyone else pretends to be."

Sansa frowned. _I open my heart to him and...? Does he know how it hurts when he laughs at one of my confessions?_ His gray eyes were nonetheless devoid of cruelty when she bored into them; they just expressed a sort of world-weariness.

Something changed in his look, for he added: “Your late lord husband... Littlefinger... his knights… they all pretended to be good. Tell me, girl, who helped you? And your father’s bannermen? You think they won’t trade their support for a seat in your council or... for a wedding?”

“You’re different. You could have stayed in Quiet Isle instead of rescuing me.”

He gazed at Sansa, before crawling to her, _like a beast_ , then sat next to her on the log. Swallowing hard, she tried not to flinch when he cupped her face and forced her to look at him straight in the eye. “What do you know about the reasons that made me rescue you? I’m not different from that lot of brutal knights and greedy lords. I’m not better.”

There wasn’t wine on his breath as she recalled, yet the contact of his hands on her face made her shiver. “What do you want?” she asked, trembling. She knew what kind of answer a lady in her position could expect; she also knew Sandor Clegane was different even though he denied it.

“What I want…” he began, smiling cruelly. The fingers of his left hand made her cheeks burn as they moved, from her jaw line to the nape of her neck, while his other hand still cupped her face.  
On an impulse, she stilled his hand. _Maybe we want the same thing:_ these words, she didn’t utter them but he could read them in her eyes in the flickering light of the fire. His twisted mouth opened as if he wanted to talk, then he removed his hands from her and ran off. Sansa stayed by the fire, trying to give sense to the incident; she heard him walking nearby, making the snow crunch under his feet. She briefly touched her cheeks, to keep the touch of his palms on her skin. As disturbing as their exchange had been for her, she sensed it was more difficult for him and somehow, in his sudden reaction, she read a tiny victory. _He’ll come to realize he’s a good person._ The heat on her cheeks hardly decreased with the chilly wind.

She prepared herself for the night, crawled in under the covers and waited. Sandor’s footsteps got closer and when he lied down on the bedroll next to hers, a smile graced her lips.


End file.
